BEDIL SHERGILL || ✔ ||

[18] : Silent Plea

It was now morning, the sun rising high in the sky, casting its warm rays through the hospital windows. The soft light filtered into the room, gently illuminating the space where Rakshit lay, recovering from the surgery that had saved his life. The Shergill family had spent the night by his side, their faces weary but relieved. Now, as the sun signaled a new day, one by one, they left to freshen up and grab some breakfast, leaving the room quiet and still.

Drishti sat outside Rakshit's hospital room, her fingers tightly gripping the edge of the cold metal bench. The faint scent of antiseptic filled the air, mixing with the quiet hum of hospital machinery. Her eyes were locked on the small window of the door, where she could just make out the form of Rakshit lying in bed, surrounded by his family.

Mahima's words echoed in her mind, a stern reminder of her place. "You've done enough, Drishti. Stay away from my son." The warning was clear, and Drishti had no choice but to obey. She stayed rooted to the bench, watching from a distance as the family huddled around him, offering the comfort she desperately wished she could give.

Inside, Rakshit's eyes remained closed, though he was conscious, his mind slowly waking from the anesthesia. The murmurs of his family reached his ears, but he focused on blocking out the world. He didn't want to see anyone-especially not Drishti. The thought of her brought a wave of emotions he wasn't ready to face: anger, betrayal, and a pain so deep it made him feel hollow.

After what felt like hours, the family began to leave one by one, Mahima being the last to go, her gaze lingering on her son before she finally stepped out, leaving the room quiet and dimly lit.

Drishti waited, her heart pounding in her chest, until she was sure they were gone. Only then did she dare to push open the door, her movements tentative and slow. The room was still, the only sound the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

Rakshit's body remained rigid, his fingers gripping the edge of the bed until his knuckles turned white. He focused on the steady beep of the heart monitor, letting its rhythm anchor him in the present, away from the storm that raged within. Every ounce of his being screamed to look at her, to see the pain in her eyes that mirrored his own, but he refused. He had to protect himself, had to build walls so high that even the smallest crack wouldn't let the flood of emotions break through.

"Mr. Shergil...."

Her voice, so soft, so broken, sent a shiver down his spine, but he forced himself to remain unmoved. He couldn't let her see how her presence, her mere existence, was unraveling him piece by piece.

Drishti, standing on the precipice of despair, felt the coldness in the room seep into her bones. The man before her, the one she had unknowingly pushed away, was now unreachable, hidden behind a fortress of hurt and betrayal that she had unknowingly built brick by brick.

"Please, just listen to me...for a moment."

Her voice cracked, and she took another tentative step forward, but the look on his face-a mask of indifference-froze her in her tracks. The last bit of hope she had clung to slowly slipped away.

Rakshit finally turned his head slightly, just enough for her to catch the sharp edge of his profile. His jaw was clenched so tightly that she feared he might shatter it. When he finally spoke, his voice was like a glacier, cold and slow-moving, each word weighted with the gravity of his pain.

"I have nothing to say to you, Drishti."

The use of her name, devoid of any affection, hit her like a physical blow. Gone was the warmth that had once filled the air between them, replaced by an icy detachment that sent chills down her spine.

"I never meant to hurt you..." she whispered, her voice trembling as she fought to keep her composure. But her words felt hollow, even to her own ears. How could she explain the misunderstanding, the terrible mistake, when he had already shut himself off from her?